shoulder of the blue-nosed Baboon, while
speaking, but as he uttered the last words he
sprang up to the middle of the back of the
Giraffe, for greater safety.

Lord Bumbleby (addressing the Elephant).
You have heard what your little friend has
said. Has he fairly stated the object of your
complaint?

The Elephant begged to assure his Lordship
and the Court, that for his own part
he had no especial cause of grievance. He
had mainly come forward on the present
occasion at the earnest request of a number
of respected animals. As for himself, what
with cakes and ale, and other presents, and a
considerable share of liberty and attention,
he had no reasonable ground for dissatisfaction,
and he should always look down upon a
Hippopotamus.

Lord Bumbleby (addressing the group of
Animals). Let me distinctly ask for a decided
and definite reply. Has the Marmozet rightly
and truly stated the purpose of your complaint
—one and all?

Numerous Voices of various kinds. He has!
—He has!—He has!

Lord Bumbleby. Then let me beg that some
one among you, less cautious, and guarded,
and less prudent and circumlocutions than the
Elephant, will do me the favour to walk forth,
and state the whole substance of the matter.

At these words the Lion strode majestically
into the middle of the Court, and after several
heavy swinges of his tail, as he looked with a
very grave forest-lord countenance on all
around, addressed his Lordship and the
Council, in a deep voice.

He said that to his own mind, as a Lion, the
whole complaint was undignified and
ridiculous; but as a denizen of the Gardens, and
one of the oldest of its nobles, he felt bound
to espouse the common cause, and enter his
protest against the gross favouritism that had
been displayed towards the Hippopotamus.
At first, a little of this was all very well—in
fact, it was expected, with a new-comer of
more than ordinary pretensions. But things
had been carried much too far. The
Hippopotamus had become a fashionable furor. As
to the animal himself, he had nothing to say
against him; the question was one of a broad
public kind. Was it right towards all the
other inhabitants of the Gardens, many of
them possessing points and qualities worthy
of the highest interest and estimation, that an
almost exclusive devotion should be shown to
this one individual? He the Lion blamed no
one in especial—but everybody, as the injury
was committed by everybody. He had felt
so irritated at it—not on his own account, for
he was generally half asleep all day, but as a
public insult—that he had taken to scratch his
neck, as he thought of it, till he had torn nearly
all the hair off one side, and caused the worthy
Secretary great distress at this injury to his
personal appearance. He concluded by
expressing his opinion that the ridiculous adulation
of public levees, held by the Hippopotamus
in his divan, should forthwith cease; and a
general apology by the Council and visitors, at
large, be made to all the other animals.

Before his Lordship had time to reply, and
before the Lion had retired to join the group
of animals, a large, black, nobby, pugnacious,
turned-up snout was thrust forward, and the
morose, insolent face, and rough wire-haired
body that owned it, sprang into the centre of
the Court. Need we say this was the Hyæna?

Why, he asked, were the Gardens, and all
London, to be incessantly occupied in thinking
of, talking about, and crowding to see a swimming
swine? And why?—because he had the
impudence to pretend to have some likeness
to a horse! As to his swimming,—any pig
can swim. What was this Hippopotamus, in
reality, but a very large pig,—differing only in
being able to dive to the bottom of a bath, in
being enormously expensive in his diet, and in
being of no sort of ornament or utility. Look
at this diet!—was it not infamous in its
enormity of cow's milk and Tafilat dates (for
he wouldn't eat the little dry yellow Barbary
ones), and in porridge made with the finest
maize meal, and with American hommony on
Sundays. Look at the diet that he, the Hyæna,
was given! Fire his mane-bristles! if he
generally had anything but great red-and-
blue bones—bones, too, in many cases, which
the Lion and the Tiger had refused,—but given
to him, merely because the keeper knew that
he had a lower jaw capable of smashing bones
which the Lion would not, and the Tiger could
not break! Was he, the Hyæna, to endure
this? Shrieks and fang-wranglers! Never!
Split the tip of his nose with a hatchet, if he
would suffer it any longer! No!—no!—no!
But would he still tear at it through his bars?
—would he?—would he?—would he? ha! ha!
ha! would he? Yes! yes! yes! Flay off
his skin with rakes and tongs, he would still
ha! ha! hoo! shriek and yell his execrations,
and tear at—

Here five keepers suddenly ran forward,
and with great difficulty muzzled the frantic
speaker, and dragged him out of Court, by the
mane and tail, and one hind leg. It was well
they did, as all the ladies and most of the
gentlemen had risen from their seats, and
were just preparing to make a precipitate
retreat. The Duchess of Flusterwing had
her splendid tippet quite discomposed, and
Mr. Foot's veal-and-ham pie had a narrow
escape of being smashed in his pocket.

Lord Bumbleby. If we are to have any
more of such shameful behaviour as this, I
shall vacate my seat. Mr. Broderip is more
used to deal with these obstreperous characters
in the performance of his magisterial
duties in Westminster—perhaps he will be so
good as take the chair.

Mr. Broderip expressed his readiness to do
this. He considered it his duty, not merely
on the score of his magisterial avocations,
but of his labours in natural history, and the